


You Call Me A Hero

by happyevraftr



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BAMF!Stiles, He's not, M/M, Magic!Stiles, Pack Feels, he doesn't really get what the fuss is about, he's not a hero, no really, oh and then there's porn, stiles saves the pack, stilinksi family feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-13
Updated: 2012-11-13
Packaged: 2017-11-18 13:30:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/561582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happyevraftr/pseuds/happyevraftr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles knows he won’t beat this mysterious dark evil that’s come to devour them. He knows it’s a losing battle and he’s probably going to die anyways, but he still tries. He has to try and save them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Call Me A Hero

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sabriel75](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabriel75/gifts).



> To sabriel75: Oh goodness. I had SO much fun taking your prompts and running with them!! I tried to incorporate all of them as much as possible. I hope you enjoy dear! Happy harvest!
> 
> To fleet.footed: THANK YOU for the beta!! I couldn’t have gotten this put together without you. *hugs*

There’s no time. No time to think or breathe, no time to weigh the options.

He runs.

Runs until every muscle in his body is spasming from a lack of oxygen, until his lungs are aching and heaving to try and suck in more precious, precious air. He runs until he’s afraid he won’t be able to run anymore and then he just keeps going.

He propels himself forward, jumping over logs and throwing branches out of the way. The urgency and adrenaline give him blessed coordination he normally lacks. Each misstep, every second lost could mean the death of a friend, and he refuses to let that become reality.

Bursting through the woods to a clearing, he comes to a sudden stop. It’s almost here. The second hand is ticking down and this is going to have to be good enough. He throws his backpack on the ground and scrambles to pull out everything he needs.

He rips off his shirt and pops off the cap on the red fingerpaint he keeps just for this reason. With a shaking hand he dips a finger in and quickly scrawls the ancient symbols over his chest. The moment he’s done, he feels the magic surging through him. It’s always a shock to his system, like something ancient is awakening under his skin. He takes in a sharp breath as it unfurls inside him, rushing through his veins as if he’s coming alive for the first time.

Once the world refocuses he pulls the powder from his bag and creates a line across the clearing. He won’t be able to stop the evil coming for them. He doesn’t know where it came from, but it’s old, strong magic. While he can’t stop it, he can redirect it; maybe keep the town and people he loves safe.

There’s no room for error, and for a split second he’s worried his study sessions with Deaton won’t be enough. Still having to use enhancing symbols to focus his magic shows just how much of a newbie he is at all this.

His head snaps up as he feels the presence enter the clearing, rushing towards him like a physical force. There’s no time and he’s not ready, but--

He has to try.

He closes his eyes and puts all doubts out of his head, focussing on his magic instead and directing it to the powder just in front of him. In his mind’s eye he raises it into a wall stretching out as far as possible on either side of him.

The second the opposing power hits, it reverberates through his body, crashing over him in tidal waves, shaking him to the bones. It _hurts_. The pain wraps through him like a vine, twisting and squeezing, doing everything to level him to the ground. There’s a sentient presence within the power, searching for his weaknesses to try and break him apart.

Miraculously, he holds. He pictures every person he’s trying to protect. His dad. Scott. Mrs. McCall. Allison. Derek. Erica. Boyd. Isaac. Jackson. Lydia. This thing can’t have them. He won’t let it.

Tears prick the corners of his eyes, and he collapses to his knees as he pushes and pushes against the opposing force. The ground beneath him is steadying, and he pulls extra energy from the earth, feeling it trickle in from the plants, trees, grass and animals to come to his aid. It’s not much, but it lets him hold his resistance.

There’s a price for everything and using so much power is literally sucking the life out of him. He’s getting weaker, and he’s concerned he won’t stay alive long enough to stave off the evil. Sharp spikes of pain burst inside his head, and he feels like he’s splitting apart at the seams, coming undone from the inside out.

 _‘Please.’_ he thinks desperately.

Blessedly, the presence recedes enough that he can breathe, and he begins to slide along his wall, looking for any points of weakness.

With its brief retreat comes renewed determination, and Stiles digs deep down to find the last of his reserves to reinforce the barrier. Overwhelming relief consumes him as he feels the being crawl along his wall until it’s at the very outer edges.

Refusing to fail after coming so far, he holds firm until there’s not a trace of the magic left. When there’s no more evil pinpricking against the wall, not a hint of the tarnished power brushing against his own, he finally lets go.

His magic whiplashes back into him, recoiling tight inside before fading to a dull thrum. There’s nothing left for him to give. Every ounce of strength and will was spilled on the forest floor in a battle to save the ones he loves.

As his used body crumples to the ground, he smiles satisfied. He’s saved them. It was enough.

The world goes black.

\\\\\\*~*~*///

_‘Hey buddy-- you say you’re not a hero, but you seem to keep saving us. You need to wake up soon. Your dad’s freaking out, Derek is a day away from ripping everybody apart and turning you, and the whole pack is on edge. We’re falling apart without you man. Just--_

_Wake up. Ok?’_

\\\\\\*~*~*~///

_‘Hi. It’s Erica._

_Derek isn’t letting anyone near you, but he finally fell asleep on the couch after almost a week of sitting by your side. If it wasn’t for the fact your dad loves having him around to keep an eye on you, I think Derek would drive him insane. He’s beside himself with worry. We all are. Deaton told us what you did to keep everyone safe. Apparently I owe you my life again._

_You keep saving us._

_Sometimes I don’t think you realize how much we need you though. You’re part of the pack. If you die for any of us---_

_…._

_We need you to be ok.’’_

\\\\\\*~*~*///

_‘We don’t talk much. You’re the best friend, and I’m the girl friend. I know I kind of swooped in and stole your man but-- but I think you’re kind of awesome and I’m sad we didn’t get to know each other better. I want you to wake up so you can tell me all the crazy stories of Scott as a kid. I want us to snicker behind his back and trade secrets._

_Thank you for sharing him with me.’_

\\\\\\*~*~*///

_‘You need to calm down.’_

_‘It’s been two weeks, Deaton. Two weeks of him not moving a single inch.’_

_‘I told you it would be a long time. The amount of magic he used should have killed him. It’s a miracle he’s here to begin with, and it’s going to take a long while for him to recover.’_

_‘He’d be better in less than a day if I turned him.’_

_‘You know he doesn’t want that.’_

_‘I know. I just--I can’t.’_

_‘He can do this. Believe he’s strong enough.’_

_‘I know he is. I just don’t think I am.’_

\\\\\\*~*~*///

_‘You remind me of your mother. She was so strong and passionate. No matter where we went, she was always helping people. She saw things that I overlooked._

_When she was eight months pregnant with you she had all these weird cravings and anytime we left the house we’d end up taking a trip to the grocery store. On one particular day she was insistent about having peanut butter and olives, so we went to pick them up after church. On the way back to the car she stopped and began helping this old man put his groceries in the back of his car._

_Eight months pregnant, unable to see her own feet with you in the way, and she still stops to help this man. She took my breath away._

_You’re just like that, so selfless and strong. I’m so proud to call you my son. You hear me, Stiles? I’m so proud of you. I love you.’_

\\\\\\*~*~*///

Returning to consciousness is like wandering through a dense fog. He’s unable to see his own hand in front of his face, but he pushes forwards anyways. It feels like walking through a maze until things finally begin to clear. Floating up, up, up until--

Stiles gasps and sits straight up in bed. Air. He could use some. His body doesn’t feel his own, and it takes a second to remember how to breathe, sucking in desperate gasps of air. The room spins, and he’s on the verge of passing out before there’s a blurry face in front of him and a steadying hand on his shoulder.

“Stiles?” His father’s voice filters through his ears and calms his racing heart.

“Is everyone safe? Did it work?” he asks frantically. The last thing he remembers is sprinting through the woods.

“Yes. Calm down. You almost killed yourself with the hocus pocus so you need to lay down and let me go call Deaton, ok?”

Everything finally falls into focus, and the look on his father’s face makes him shut up and lay back. He hasn’t seen that kind of worry since his mother.

The next few hours pass in a blur. Deaton comes and pokes and prods at him, asking all sorts of questions that he can barely focus long enough to answer. His body feels strung out and exhausted, even though they tell him he’s been sleeping for just over a month. As he fades in and out of sleep, he sees Deaton standing over him with healing stones, his dad standing stoic in the doorway and, oddly enough, Derek lounging in his desk chair watching Deaton’s every move.

The dynamic trio is kind of weird, an unlikely bunch at best, but it makes him feel safe. Knowing he’s in good hands he slips back into a deep sleep, letting his body start to knit itself back together.

\\\\\\*~*~*///

The next time he wakes up it’s a much easier process. Awareness returns to him slowly and gently, coaxing him back to the land of the living. He blinks his eyes a few times and props himself up on his elbows.

“Hey, how are you feeling?”

Stiles looks down the bed at Derek who’s moving to sit next to him. A hand brushes his forehead, and he frowns in confusion.

“Deaton said you were running a fever earlier. I think it’s broken now though,” he says as he lets his hand drop.

“I’m feeling better. A little less like I have one foot in the grave.” Stiles says with a smile.

Derek frowns at that and looks like he’s about to cry. The idea of Derek Hale shedding tears is terrifying, so he starts talking again. “I’m starving though. I honestly feel like I could eat a horse. Is my dad home?”

“He’s at work, but I’ll make you a sandwich. I should call Deaton and have him come check on you,” he says as he walks towards the door.

“No, don’t. Just give me one minute to feel normal alright?” he asks.

Derek nods and leaves for a while before coming back with sandwich in hand. Stiles devours it appreciatively, already feeling more energized.

“Do you play xbox at all? I realize you practically live in the dark ages in that subway station, but I’m bored, and if you’re going to be stalking me you might as well entertain me.” Stiles tosses him a controller from the bedside table and scoots over on the bed, patting the spot next to him.

Derek stares at him for a while, the same look he’s been getting from Deaton and his dad. Like he actually died and no one can believe he’s here. It rubs him the wrong way and he turns towards the tv, getting ready for an awkward afternoon of Halo with one emotionally constipated sourwolf.

\\\\\\*~*~*///

The next few weeks don’t go much better than that first full afternoon awake. His dad looks at him out of the corner of his eye like he’s going to disappear at any second. Derek won’t talk to him, but he always seems to be hovering around. Not to mention the entire pack seems to have this weird hero worship going on, and it’s pissing him off.

It all comes to a head two weeks later. It’s pack night, and everyone is tiptoeing around him. He’s just trying to cook them all dinner at his house, and they keep babying him, taking things out of his hand before he can take two steps and get anything done.

“That’s it!” he yells and throws down the spatula Isaac is currently trying to wrestle out of his grip.

He storms into the living room where everyone is gathered.

“I am tired of everyone treating me like a child. I’m here, ok. It’s just me. Just Stiles. I didn’t even do that much. So if you all could go back to not paying me any attention and giving me shit all the time it would be much appreciated.” He storms upstairs and slams the door behind him. He realizes it wasn’t fair to yell at them, but all he wants to do is feel normal and they’re making that damn near impossible.

He sighs and sits down on the bed, resting his head in his hands. A soft knock sounds, and the door slowly creaks open. He’s about to yell at whoever it is when Allison’s soft voice fills the room.

“Hey. Can I come in?”

No is what he wants to say, but she’s so sweet and probably the only person he doesn’t want to offend right now. She’s stayed quiet through the whole ordeal and hasn’t treated him any different, and he loves her for it.

“Yeah, sure.”

She comes and sits down next to him and puts a gentle hand over his.

“I know it’s been a little weird lately,” she starts, and Stiles can’t help but scoff at the huge understatement. “However, you have to remember that we almost lost you. While you were unconscious we spent every day wondering if you were going to make it. It hurt all of us in different ways. Give everyone time to get used to you being ok.”

He sighs and shakes his head. “They all look at me like I’m some kind of hero and I’m not, Allison. I’m just a goofy nerd who happens to have a little bit of magic.”

“You saved all our lives. You’re a hero to them. They respect you so much,” she says quietly.

“I’m not a hero. I just did what I had to, what anyone would do,” he retorts automatically.

Allison smiles softly and pats his hand. “Not many people could do what you did though. Not everyone would sacrifice themselves the way you almost did. You’re kind of incredible.”

“I didn’t even think about it, I just did what needed to be done,” he says, exasperated.

“And that’s why you’re going to be such a great pack dad,” Allison says with a secret smile that Stiles can’t even begin to interrupt. Pack dad? What is she talking about?

“What?” he asks as she shakes her head and moves to the door.

“I promise I’ll talk to them. Tell them to chill out a bit, ok? Come back downstairs soon. We’re all just happy to have you up and moving around. Even if you’re being a sourwolf.” She smirks and closes the door quietly behind her.

Stiles smiles and takes a deep breath.

\\\\\\*~*~*///

It gets better after that. Things slowly slip back into place. Jackson starts acting like the asshole he is, Erica jabs and bribes him whenever possible, Isaac takes to sparring with him, Boyd teases him mercilessly about buying a pointy hat and a broom, Scott and him go back to goofing off whenever possible, he has a new best friend in Allison, and overall they’re back to being a big happy family.

Besides Derek. He’s still moody and flies off the handle at just about anything. To make matters just that little bit more awesome, the whole pack seems to have something up their sleeve. They’re consistently leaving him and Stiles alone, or Stiles will walk into a room, and the only seat left will be the one right next to Derek.

Having any type of divide between the pack unsettles all of them, so he can understand where they’re coming from, but it’s still a bit weird.

On this particular Sunday afternoon Erica invited him over to the currently-being-renovated Hale house to watch a movie, which isn’t weird at all. What is weird, however, is walking into the house and finding it completely empty, except for Derek working on putting up some trim.

“What are you doing here?” Derek asks, annoyed, without looking up.

“Well Erica invited me, but it seems like she forgot,” he answers, trying not to get his hackles up at Derek’s tone.

“She’s not here,” he says dismissively and proceeds to ignore him.

“What is your problem? Are you pissed off I woke up or something? Because you seem to be the only one that’s unhappy I’m still alive,” he yells at Derek’s back.

Derek freezes and then whips around to face him. He looks devastated and more open and raw than Stiles can ever remember seeing him. “Do you honestly think that?”

So the accusation may have been a bit harsh, but Stiles can’t figure out what the fuck is going on. He shrugs in feigned indifference rather than say anything.

Derek doesn’t talk for a long while, and Stiles is about to leave when the silence is broken.

“I’m the one that found you, you know,” Derek says while looking off into space, reliving the moment. Stiles looks at him in surprise. He hadn’t known that.

“I thought you were dead at first. You were lying so still in the dirt and leaves. So pale and your heart was barely beating. It took everything I had not to give you the bite then and there. When you didn’t wake up, I tried to convince Deaton to let me do it. I knew you’d hate me for it, for taking away your humanity and magic, but-- I couldn’t lose you.”

His voice is cracked and something about it makes Stiles chest ache. The raw pain there is overwhelming.

“Then why have you been avoiding me? I don’t understand.”

“Because--” Derek pauses and takes a deep breath before coming over and invading his space. His eyes are full of repressed emotion, so deep and huge Stiles can barely comprehend it. “Because every time I’m near you I remember how you looked that night, and it’s all I can do to keep myself from pulling you close and never letting go.”

Derek leans forward a few inches and it seems like he’s going for a kiss so Stiles meets him halfway, lightly brushing their lips together. The pleasure is instantaneous and he can feel his magic stir to life, shocking them both. They gasp and pull apart, staring wide eyed at the other. He automatically brings his hand up to his mouth and runs his fingers over his lips.

“Wow,” he exhales, looking up at Derek.

“Stiles,” Derek whispers and wraps a hand around the back of his head, hauling him in close. They share each other’s space, hot breath ghosting across Stiles’ cheek, tickling his skin. His eyes flicker down to Derek’s mouth and he leans forward enough to run his tongue over his soft pink lips. He tastes sweet, tangy and like everything Stiles has ever wanted.

Closing the distance between them, he molds his body to Derek’s and kisses him again, working his mouth slowly until Derek opens for him and he can slip his tongue inside. He moans at the heat he finds there.

Derek tilts his head until their mouths slot together, bracing his hands on either side of Stiles’ face to hold him still as he explores with his tongue. Stiles knees go weak and he braces himself by putting his hands on Derek’s hips and squeezing tight.

It’s filthy, dirty open mouth kisses. Long and slow until he has every inch of Derek’s mouth memorized. His heart races, and his pulse point throbs in his neck, pure adrenaline rushing through him.

Nothing has ever been as exhilarating as the slow slide of tongue against tongue, as the heat of Derek’s body pressed tightly against his own. When they break apart Stiles pulls Derek’s lower lip into his mouth and sucks on it gently, rolling it in-between his teeth a little before tugging gently.

They rest their foreheads together and breath deeply for a long while, enjoying resting in each other’s spaces.

“That was unexpected.” Stiles finally manages to say.

Derek doesn’t answer, instead pushes him back into the door and kisses him again. His hands wander over Stiles’ body tugging on the hem of his t-shirt. Oh hell yes. He raises his arms and lets him pull the shirt over his head, whining as Derek brushes his hands over his sides.

“More,” Stiles gasps into his mouth, reaching for the button of his jeans and popping it open. He drags the zipper down and pushes the material away until he gets his hands on the bare skin of Derek’s hips. His skin is sizzling underneath Stiles fingers, calling to him like a siren’s song.

He moans and leans back in to nibble at Derek’s lips some more, biting gently before laving over the teeth indents.

“I need to see you, I need to make sure you’re ok,” Derek whispers before taking one of his hands and leading him upstairs to his bedroom.

As the rest of his clothing is removed and Derek begins to trace the patterns in his flesh, all Stiles can focus on is the rapt look of awe and worry that clouds Derek’s face. He had no idea how much his near death had affected him.

“Hey, I’m ok, you know. You didn’t actually lose me,” Stiles says as he tips Derek’s face up to kiss him sweetly.

“I thought I had though. I-- I want to ask you something. You can say no, but you need say yes,” Derek says, hands coming up to rest on his shoulders.

Stiles isn’t entirely sure what he’s going to say, and he has a feeling it should wait until they’re not standing butt naked in his room. Plus the way Derek’s forehead creases into little frown lines and how everything about his non-verbal communication screams _‘Stiles isn’t going to like this”_ makes him tense up a little.

Derek waits another thirty seconds before swallowing thickly and meeting his gaze. “If--” he closes his eyes and takes another deep breath before opening them again, “--if you are that close to dying again, I want your permission to let me turn you.”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, they form a tight fist and punch Stiles right in the gut. The force of it leaves him breathless. This is something he’s been adamant about. He doesn’t want to be a wolf.

“I don’t think--”

“Please,” Derek says quietly “I promise I would only ever do it if it was the last option.”

He’s about to say no, but the wrecked look on Derek’s face stops him. In that moment his world expands, and he realizes there’s someone else depending on him besides his dad. There’s another person that would be irreparably damaged if he died. It’s a humbling notion. It’s what makes him blurt out-

“Ok. Ok. Only if you promise, you have to promise.”

He expects some gloating and maybe even intense joy to be the response to that, but instead Derek just looks insanely relieved and pulls him into a crushing hug. “Thank you,” he says so quietly Stiles almost misses it.

He sighs and wraps his hands around him and squeezes tight. They stay that for a while, taking comfort they didn’t realize they needed. Derek’s hard against him, and if his body looks impressive, it feels even better wrapped around Stiles with nothing in between.

Eventually Derek starts kissing up his neck which tickles a little and makes him squirm. The friction of their skin rubbing together is intoxicating, and his hips must have a mind of their own because they’re hitching forward just enough to drive him wild with the need for more.

“C’mere,” Derek says as he moves them to the bed and pushes him down. Stiles tries to pull him flush to his chest, but he stays hovering above him. Stiles takes the opportunity to get the first good look at the object of his fantasies. Derek is exceptionally good looking without clothes, mouthwateringly gorgeous to be exact. His arm muscles bulge in the effort to keep himself supported and his chest is sculpted in a way Stiles only thought possible in the movies. 

“Let me look at you,” Derek says as he traces over Stiles abs with the tip of his finger. The touch is light and makes him shiver and break out in goosebumps.

“I can’t lose anyone else.” Derek says, and the fire from eight years ago blazes behind his eyes.

“You won’t,” Stiles promises with every ounce of conviction he possesses, even though they both know it’s an empty promise.

He gasps as Derek bends down and kisses his hipbone until the skin colors. From there he moves on to suck deep purple bruises onto his inner thigh, neck and collarbone. By the time he makes it back to Stiles’ mouth he is a quivering mess, coming undone under Derek’s skilled lips.

“I don’t have anything,” Derek says and Stiles heart falls for a few seconds before he continues, “but I still want to make you come.”

It’s as if Derek’s words have a line straight to his swollen cock, making it throb in need and dribble precome between them. He watches enraptured as Derek slides down his body. He’s imagined this before. Derek’s lips wrapped around his cock, cheeks hollowing out to suck him down.

Heart racing and toes curled, he waits in anticipation for Derek to reach his destination. Much to Stiles’ surprise and frustration, Derek only gives his dick one long slow swipe and then goes lower, nudging his legs apart with his head. Stubble scratches against Stiles’ skin, which tickles in all the best ways and makes him squirm.

Derek pushes his legs back until his hips lift off the bed a little. Without any warning something warm and wet trails from his tailbone all the way down his ass and over his hole.

“Holy fuck!” Stiles exclaims and gathers the sheets into his fists, entire body going taught with the effort to not come embarrassingly fast.

Derek runs his tongue over him like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted, lapping at his hole until it’s a wet mess and Stiles can’t remember anything but the electric feeling of Derek _consuming_ him. He tries to keep himself propped up so he can watch the mess of dark hair moving between his legs, but then Derek’s pushing _inside_ with his tongue and that nearly shatters him.

He throws his head back and sags down into the bed. A small whimper escapes him as Derek opens him with his tongue. After everything they’ve been through, this will be his undoing. Every short jab inside him pulls him apart piece by piece until he’s left feeling raw and open; shaking with the unadulterated need to be put back together.

“I’ve got you,” he hears Derek say and a warm hand splays out over his stomach. It disappears before Stiles has a chance to enjoy the touch, but then Derek is simultaneously taking his cock down his throat and pushing a single finger inside him. He yells in surprise and arches up into the touch.

It’s too much. All of it is just too damn much and Stiles finally, _finally_ lets go. Giving everything he has to Derek as he comes in long spurts down his throat.

He drifts for a while after that. Lost in a haze of satisfaction and suspended happiness. When he opens his eyes Derek is curled around his side and drawing random shapes over his chest. For a second he feels too exposed and vulnerable and he thinks about finding something to cover up with, but then Derek smiles at him.

A real smile. The kind of smile he’s only seen Derek give a handful people only once or twice in the entire time he’s known him. The brilliance of it takes his breath away and banishes all fear.

“Hi,” Stiles says as he rolls onto his side to face Derek.

Derek rolls his eyes at him and leans forward to bite his nose. “Hi.”

Realizing he’s been rather shit at this whole reciprocation thing, Stiles winds a hand between them and tentatively rubs it over Derek’s hard length. He feels Derek shudder around him and he drops his head to Stiles’ shoulder, letting out a shaky breath that ghosts across Stiles’ skin and makes him break out in goosebumps again.

The angle is awkward and all wrong, but Derek feels heavy and pretty damn perfect in his hand. He brushes his thumb over the head to gather the precome and slick his hand with it before pumping him slowly.

Not for a single second in his life did he ever think this would be a possibility, so he savors it. He memorizes every hitch in Derek’s breath, how his hips thrust forward just a little when something feels particularly good.

Stiles’ firms up his grip and moves faster, pushing Derek further and further until he feels him pulse in his hand and then finally unravel in his arms, spilling his hot come between them. Derek’s body is strung tight and he bites down on Stiles’ shoulder to muffle a scream. Eventually his body goes slack and sags into Stiles’ embrace.

There’s something very calming about seeing such a powerful and collected man come undone from his touch. It humbles him and grounds him at the same time, putting all of the shattered pieces of his heart back together.

Silence engulfs the room, settling peacefully over them as their exhausted lungs fight for air. Stiles runs his hands up and down Derek’s back, enjoying the moment.

“The pack is going to be insufferable after this you know.” Derek says quietly.

“How so?” Stiles asks through a yawn.

“They’ve been trying to get us together for weeks now. Haven’t you noticed?” Derek mumbles into his neck.

He chuckles at that and nuzzles into Derek’s hair. “I knew they were being weird.”

“They’ll be able to smell us on each other.” Derek says, almost like he’s apologizing they can’t hide this if Stiles’ had wanted to. 

“Good. They’ll know you’re mine then,” Stiles whispers.

He smiles at the answering growl that reverberates from Derek and travels through his chest.

Stiles knows they still have a lot to work out. Nothing is really better, nothing is less dangerous, none of the loss they’ve felt is any less poignant. They have each other now, though, and that makes everything seem brighter. Hopeful.

For the first time since the supernatural became a part of his life, he thinks he might just make it out with his mind, body and heart alive and intact.

Maybe.

****

END


End file.
